Take it Back
by toujourspret
Summary: SLASH--Have you ever made a mistake, or chosen a path that you wished you hadn't? What would you do if you could take it back? Would you change the weave of time?
1. part 1

Take it Back  
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The day was cold. Rain dripped and splashed   
over his longish, shaggy silver hair. He wrapped his   
trench around him tighter, trying to ward out the   
burning cold. Shaking his head, he sent glimmering   
splinters of liquid around him.  
"It was a day like today like every other day   
that week . . . " Shinobu cracked to himself, in the   
cheesy 1940's detective movie style. " . . . except the  
sun was out and it couldn't have been a more cheerful   
day."  
He blinked into the rain, feeling it trace his   
lashline and follow the line of his nose. It really had  
been a wonderful day that day.  
He forced the ideas out of his mind. His lunch   
hour would be over soon, and he had to get back to the   
company . . . for lack of anything better to do. He was  
the CEO, and had a secretary, so he really didn't have   
to show up at the office at all, but he didn't have   
anything else to do to wither away his days as his   
company created millions for him.  
In the years following graduation, he had lost   
track of most of his friends from school, some willingly  
and others by accident. He wanted to leave that time   
behind him--the time when he was actually happy and   
carefree.   
He was not an idiot, by any means. But when you  
are forced into a wall with no other escape, you have to  
do what you have to do.   
It was completely unfair. Everyone involved   
knew that it was cruel to do it, but they did it anyway.  
He supposed their desperation made them do it.  
Of course it made sense. This was the family   
that had bred him. Nothing they did was ever   
nonsensical, perhaps with the exception of Nagisa's   
derangement. Their reasoning was impeccable--Akira had   
been long gone, and even if he came back, his absence   
proved him unstable. He could not take the family   
business. Nagisa--one had only to look at her and see   
that no, she wouldn't do, either. Shinobu was all that   
was left.  
So naturally when Father became deathly ill, he  
had to stop what he was doing and come home. He had had  
his own plans, though, for his life. His parents   
believed that one day he would find a nice woman and   
marry, creating more Tezukas and ensuring the longevity  
of the family. Almost nothing could have been further   
from what he wanted.  
The other--Shinobu's love--was absolutely   
beautiful. Eyes the color of amethyst brimmed with   
emotion and happiness when he had asked him to accompany  
him home, to his father's deathbed. Mitsuru had   
naturally agreed, completely enthusiastic about the   
relationship. Shinobu had felt a swell of pure love   
fill his chest, and he had thrown his arms around his   
lover, gently caressing the spun gold that was softer   
than silk.  
His family had been outraged. His mother had   
wept a seemingly endless flow of tears. His father had   
lay there, gawking at the pretty boy who had "perverted"  
his son--his only chance at an heir. Nagisa had simply  
stood there, watching them with the strangest mixture of  
pity, surprise, disgust, and admiration.  
They wouldn't allow it. Even the surprising   
amount of pleading on his part from Nagisa did little   
more than keep him in the family. That boy had to go.  
Shinobu had been shell-shocked.  
In the end, he had taken his family over   
Mitsuru. What else could he do? His family didn't get   
their wishes granted without a price. Shinobu made sure  
that everything they wanted was a double-edged blade.   
With the gein of an heir that could take over the   
company, they lost the expressive, happy boy that had   
greeted them upon his arrival. They lost his smiles,   
and gained the sound of a heartbroken young man every   
night. They lost what he had found and gained what they  
had sent away. Their little ice sculpture was back with  
a vengence.  
He had forcefully severed his ties with his   
highschool days. All that remained of them was a shadow  
of a memory and a ghost of pain, which he could   
suppress, if he felt the need, to an almost non-existant  
prick in his heart whenever he saw a handsome, blonde  
man or a pair of deep purple eyes. That had been the   
most awful toll for anything he had ever payed. It was  
a constant ache, one that hurt the worst when he was in  
bed at night, cold and lonely.  
Oh, almost immediately they had realized their   
mistake. His mother had been repentant after the third  
day. Nagisa had been sypathetic the entire time, which  
thoroughly surprised him. His father had apologized   
just in time for the doctors to break out the death   
certificate. Shinobu never apologized. He never   
accepted their apologies, either. He let them feel the   
burning ache of something inside of you dying.  
He spat in disgust at the memories. The burning  
behind his eyes blinded him for a few moments, and he   
violently shoved it away. The sound of a slamming door  
entered his thougts, and an all-too-familiar sound   
greeted him.  
"Ikeda-sempai, Ikedaaa-sempai!" a female voice  
echoed, causing Shinobu to start, whipping around to see  
the speaker.  
An adorable teenage girl with short black hair   
stared at him. Her school uniform was from the Ichiban  
area of Tokyo. Just across the street, a teenage boy  
was staring at him, his own matching uniform slightly   
ruffled. His seafoam green hair stood neatly in spikes,  
and his deep blue eyes sparkled, visible from across the  
street. "Aa, gomen, " Shinobu breathed. "I thought   
you were someone else."  
He shivered in his inner-angst and forced   
himself to continue to the office. The light at the   
corner of the sidewalk lit, telling him it was safe to   
walk, and he started across.   
The girl's scream suddenly erupted in his mind,   
and he spun around, looking at her, then flipped around   
to see a large truck headed right toward him. His eyes  
widened, his life flashed before his eyes, and the world  
flickered out as his knees buckled beneath him.  
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	2. part 2

Take it Back (part 2)  
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Shinobu's head felt as though it were being used  
as a testing ground for nuclear missiles. He slowly put  
a hand to his face, covering his eyes to shield them   
from the obscene amount of light. "Someone turn off   
that damned light!" he muttered.  
A light chuckle filled his ears, and a warm body  
pressed to his side. "Sorry, Shin, I can't. It's   
called the sun, " the love in the voice was enough to   
turn his head, even if he hadn't recognized the voice.   
"Yanno, Shin, I take it that's the last time you'll   
drink that heavily, ne?"  
"Mit-Mitsuru?" Shinobu rolled over to see the   
cheerful look on his ex-lover's face. A sharp,   
twisting, dragging pain injected itself into his heart   
and slithered down to his belly button. A harsh   
sob-like gasp escaped his lips, and he drew away.  
"Well, who were you expecting? Shun or   
Hasukawa? Maybe Fujikake or Yoshiko?" Mitsuru's   
eyebrows waggled playfully, his eyes alight in mirth.   
"I AM your roommate, ne, Shin-chan?"  
"Roommate? You haven't been my roommate since   
our senior year, Mitsuru, " Shinobu sighed, rolling   
over to banish the dream from his mind. It hurt too   
badly to sit around and actually dwell on the past.  
"Anou ne, Shinobu, we ARE in senior year! Did   
you have another one of those dreams again? The ones   
where you're really old?" Mitsuru lay on his stomach   
and played with Shinobu's hair.  
"Ha-hai, I suppose, " he whispered softly. He  
could understand that. He had had dreams like that   
before. Maybe it all had been a bad dream. "But it was  
a particularly bad dream, " he murmured into Mitsuru's   
chest, curling in on him.  
Mitsuru smiled softly, taking his hand and   
holding him tightly. "I know they get pretty bad, but   
whatever happens in these dreams, we can handle. We've   
been through so much together. I think we can handle   
everything!"  
"We can handle everything, " Shinobu echoed,   
snuggling closer, feeling the tears finally come. He   
cried into his lover's shirt, all of the pain pouring   
out of him.  
"Shin? Daijoubu desu ka?" Mitsuru asked,   
feeling the warm wetness seep through his shirt. "Shin?  
was it that bad?"  
"No, no. I'm just glad it was all a dream, "   
the silver-haired boy whimpered into his lover's chest.  
"Are you going to be alright? You know, we have  
to go to your parents' house today. Remember? Your   
father is in the hospital, and you thought that perhaps  
we ought to tell him about us before he passes away, "  
Mitsuru, gently reminded.  
"Nani?!" Shinobu's head shot up. "No! I won't  
go!"  
"Shin, we already discussed this. You have to   
tell him! How will you feel if he dies and never knew?"  
Mitsuru pulled the struggling boy to him.  
"I won't go! That's what happened in the   
dream!" Even as he said it, Shinobu got the sickening   
feeling that it hadn't been a dream. It was too real,   
too long, too painful. What was this then? It felt  
just as real, and hurt too much to think about.  
"It's just a dream!" Mitsuru purred, bringing   
him closer, then slapping his butt. "Besides, they've  
already got the train tickets and they'll be pissed if   
we don't show. Suck it up. We have to tell them   
sometime, ne?"  
"I . . . suppose you're right. We do have to   
tell them. Maybe it won't turn out the same way this   
time, " Shinobu replied, sitting on his heels and   
looking down at Mitsuru, who was laying on the bed   
looking deliciously rumpled. "You're so beautiful. No  
matter what happens, I want you to remember that I love  
you, and I always will."  
"Goodness. That dream must have been horrible.  
If you really don't want to go . . . " Mitsuru's brow  
knit in worry. He placed a reassuring hand on Shinobu's  
thigh and touched his face with a tentative hand.  
"No, you're right. They deserve to know, "   
Shinobu nuzzled into the touch.  
"Are you sure?" Mitsuru cupped his hand around  
his lover's cheek. Shinobu nodded slowly, kissing   
Mitsuru's thumb.  
They dressed quickly and went to catch the   
train. On the train, Shinobu let his emotion get the   
better of him and he kissed Mitsuru impulsively,   
grinning at his lover. The blonde blinked and grinned  
back.  
"What's with the sudden enthusiasm?" Mitsuru   
asked curiously. Shinobu chuckled under his breath and   
batted his eyelashes at his lover.  
"What, can't I just shower you with affection   
one day out of the three years we've been together?" he  
asked sweetly, throwing a casual arm around Mitsuru's   
thin shoulders. The blonde replied by snuggling under   
his arm. They smirked at the other train riders, who   
were staring at them in unabashed homophobia. "I missed  
you, " Shinobu murmured into Mitsuru's hair.  
"I was right next to you the whole time, " the  
blonde shrugged in his arms.  
"But you weren't, " Shinobu thumbed through the  
golden strands beneath his fingers. "You were miles and  
miles away and I was all alone and old and lonely."  
"That will never happen, " Mitsuru said   
confidently. " 'Kimi to Itsumade', ne?"  
"That silly old song!" Shinobu laughed at the   
extremely mushy thought. Mitsuru faked a pained look   
and he grinned, kissing him gently. "Kimi-tachi to   
eien."  
"To eien!" Mitsuru reiterated, patting the top   
of Shinobu's head.  
Before too long, their stop was called and they   
grabbed their bags, getting off of the train. Mitsuru  
playfully swatted Shinobu with his bag and the silver  
haired boy as he hailed a taxi.   
The yellow vehicle pulled up and they swung   
their bags into the trunk. Shinobu leaned over the back  
seat giving the driver directions, then paid. Mitsuru  
cuddled into his side when he sat down.  
Shinobu's house was large, in the traditional   
sense. It had once been a dojo, but the battles had   
long since ceased. Now it was kept by the Tezuka family  
and was where every Tezuka for the past three   
generations had been born and raised.   
His own room was quite pleasant. It sat on the  
outer edge of the building, and had once been the weapon  
room. A set of antique kitanas adorned the wall, along   
with the samurai's sword set, but they were pretty much   
the only decoration. The rest of the room was stark,   
but not uncomfortably so, and the tatami was so thick   
and warm that his feet sank in when he walked on it.   
Both he and Mitsuru removed their shoes outside his room  
and entered through his door, to surprise his family.  
Giving Mitsuru a quick look of fear, he led him  
to the room his father had been in in the "dream," when   
this had occurred. He cracked the door, peering in, and  
almost fainted.  
It was exactly the same.  
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	3. part 3

Take it Back 3  
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Shinobu tried to run when he saw his family   
there, stooped over his ailing father. He tried to turn  
and hide in the darkest corner possible.  
There were too many similarities. First of all,  
his mother had bought the kimono she was now wearing   
only the day before he had arrived in town. He   
remembered that, because his father had told them all   
that it was an early anniversary gift, so she would have  
something for it when he was gone.  
Second, it was one of the only times he had ever  
seen that portrait of Akira. His father usually had it  
hidden away in a photo album, to protect it and to keep  
his mother from being upset by it. It was not plausible  
that they should take it out any day, nor would they   
have left it there the entire time. He distinctly   
remembered that after he came back, it had gone back   
into the album, and he hadn't seen it since.  
Third of all, Nagisa NEVER came home. This had   
been the singular time since she had been seventeen   
herself that she ever visited. After their father's   
death, she had disappeared into the sunset. Even her   
seemed stalking of him had stopped.  
He stepped back, but as he did, Mitsuru put his   
foot between Shinobu's and wedged the door open.   
Shinobu's startled, frustrated cry held a tinge of   
despair in it as he realized what Mitsuru had done.   
'You've drawn up our estrangement papers, and signed   
them!' he thought to the boy, who cocked his head in   
confusion and guestured into the door.  
Slowly, he pushed open the door. The family was  
giving him the same look Mitsuru had and he squashed the  
self-conscious blush that was beginning to creep into   
his cheeks. "O-genki desu, " he greeted informally,   
forcing a smile onto his face. It wouldn't happen   
again. It couldn't happen again. Fate wasn't that   
cruel.  
Even his father stopped at the smile on his   
face. Mitsuru simply squeezed his hand from behind and   
whispered, "See? I told you it would go alright!"  
His fake smile dissolved away into a real one,   
and he moved to his father's bedside. "How are you?"  
"I have enough time for you to brief me in your  
life! It's not like, " the man coughed, " . . . I'm   
going to roll over and die in the next ten minutes!"  
"Yes, Shinobu! Tell us how things have been   
going at school! Tell us how things have been going for  
you!" his mother chirped. He nervously clasped his   
hands.  
"Why don't we wait and talk about that later?   
Father, you seem rather tired. If you're right, I'll   
see you in the morning, and we can talk about that   
then, " Shinobu dodged the question.  
"All right. I do have to finish dinner, and   
Father hasn't had much sleep since Nagisa came in. Why  
don't you take your friend to your room and get him   
settled in, and then you can give him a tour around the   
house?" his mother smiled, taking Nagisa's hand.   
"Nagisa and I are going to make something special, just  
for you, Shinobu!"  
"Are you sure you want to trust Nagisa with my   
life?" Shinobu asked almost cynically, but his tone and  
face were light.  
"Yeah! She might poison him or something!"   
Mitsuru redoubled, not joking. Nagisa shot them both   
looks to kill, and they burst into quiet laughter.   
Shinobu gently guided Mitsuru to his door, where  
they slipped on their shoes and headed into the   
courtyard. When they got to the koi pond, Shinobu knelt  
next to it. Mitsuru joined him, rubbing his arm gently.  
"What was that back there? I've never known you to get  
spooked like that. You've always done what you set out   
to do!"  
" 'Tsuru, that's how it was in the dream!   
That's what happened! Everything, down to the picture  
frame being on the right side of the bed and Nagisa on   
the left!" Shinobu frantically told him.  
"Come on, Shinobu! It was a dream! It's NOT   
going to come true!" Mitsuru said almost sharply.  
"But I don't want it to!" the silver-haired boy  
half-whined, tears of frustration building in his eyes.  
"And I'm . . . scared . . . that it will."  
"Shinobu, it's not going to come true, "   
Mitsuru softly comforted him. "Look-look at me, " he   
lifted the other's chin with two fingers, "I promise   
that it will not happen. I PROMISE."  
"But you can't control it!" Shinobu snapped.  
A quiet cough sounded from behind them. Nagisa  
stood over them, an apron over her suit and her hair   
tied back in a kerchief. "Dinner's ready, " she told   
them, then spun on her heel and went inside.   
"How long do you think she was standing there?"  
Mitsuru breathed.  
Dinner went remarkably well, with no fighting   
between Nagisa and Shinobu. In fact, it was almost   
eerie the way she didn't even attempt to start anything.  
All she did was cast strange glances at the two of them.  
After dinner, Shinobu and Mitsuru took a walk   
around the courtyard with Nagisa. Shinobu's mother   
looked on from the porch, and The four of them exchanged  
cheerful, meaningless banter until nightfall, and then   
went to bed.  
The next morning, Shinobu woke earlier than   
Mitsuru. He sat up, watching his lover sleep with a   
slightly bittersweet taste. A knife turned in the pit   
of his stomach. He let his eyes flicker over the softer  
look of Mitsuru's golden hair in the early morning   
sunlight. He could practically see his laughing violet   
eyes.  
He thought of how lonely he was going to be when  
it happened. He distinctly remembered the pain of the   
first night. It was all something he didn't want to   
relive.  
The beautiful boy rolled over, exposing his face  
to the muted light shining through the paper screens of   
Shinobu's door and smiling. He finally sat up, looking   
over his shoulder at his lover. "What time is it?" he  
asked sleepily.  
"About eight, " Shinobu replied.  
"And what time did you get up?" Mitsuru's brow  
creased.  
"Around six fourty-five, " the silver-haired   
boy admitted that he'd been watching him for the past   
hour. Mitsuru laughed at the slightly guilty look on   
his face. "Come on, and let's get dressed. I think   
it's time for breakfast."  
They took their time while dressing, each   
watching the other and catching him watching. Mitsuru   
winked at Shinobu, and once even proceeded to take it   
off again, but the delicious smells wafting in from the  
kitchen warded them into other directions. They raced   
each other to the kitchen and promptly began to torture  
Nagisa.  
Shinobu distinctly remembered how fun this had   
been. In an attempt to please their mother, Nagisa had   
made breakfast. The horribly burned food was nothing   
in light of the sparkle in Mitsuru's eyes as they got   
the better of her again, and the two of them had dragged  
the joke out all day, until his father had made them   
stop.  
After breakfast, they cleaned the kitchen and   
went outside again. "You sure seem to spend a lot of   
time outside, ne?" Mitsuru asked as he perched himself   
into one of the trees on the property.  
Shinobu blinked, then vaulted himself onto the   
wall at the edge of the courtyard. "I suppose I do.   
There's not really much of an alternative, " he   
responded coolly.  
"I guess you're right. Your house is kind of   
boring, " Mitsuru looked positively juvenile kicking   
his legs over the ground. He beamed up at his lover and  
their eyes met for an intense moment. "When are we   
going to tell them?" he asked softly, his head tilting  
down and his golden bangs obscuring his eyes.  
"Today, " Shinobu sighed, feeling the ache   
start up again. It burned and hurt as he remembered   
that this was his last day with Mitsuru. "We'll tell   
them today." 'Why does it have to end?' he thought   
desperately, tilting his head back to look at the sun.  
'Why can't it go on forever?'  
"Are . . . are you really worried? I mean like,  
scared?" Mitsuru looked up at him, an almost unreadable  
expression on his face.  
"Yeah, " Shinobu sighed, trying to hold the   
moment in his mind. "I've got a really bad feeling   
about it."  
"And are--" Mitsuru began, only to be   
interrupted.  
"Father wants you inside now, Shinobu, " Nagisa  
said tentatively. "I think it's about finishing the   
conversation from yesterday."  
The silver haired boy slithered down from the   
wall fluidly, then waited for Mitsuru to join him. The   
three of them walked in silence, like prisoners to an  
execution. That's certainly what Shinobu felt was   
happening. When they got to his father's room, his   
mother was already seated at her husband's bedside, and  
the photograph from the day before, as Shinobu knew, was  
put back into the photo album.  
Shinobu almost shyly sat at the foot of the bed,  
and Mitsuru sat next to him. The tension in the room   
was amazing--so delicate, and yet holding all of   
Shinobu's worst fears and even his fate.  
"So, how are things at school? I can ask that   
now and you won't send me to bed, right?" his father   
asked. Shinobu shrugged.  
"I get good grades. I study a lot. All of my   
teachers like me, " he stated simply.  
"And what about the girls? Haven't you found a   
girlfriend yet?" his mother teased gently. His father  
gave her a reprimanding look, but turned an eager eye on  
him, awaiting the answer.  
"I haven't. I . . . " Shinobu felt his   
attention irrevocably drawn to his hands, entwined in   
his lap. "I don't think I'm going to."  
"Oh, dear, don't be discouraged by a few   
failures! Just get out there and you'll find somone to  
love!" she chirped, drawing more scornful looks from   
her husband.  
"N-no, that's not . . . it. I've already . . .   
I've already found someone to love, " Shinobu stammered  
out. Mitsuru's hand wrapped firmly around his, and he   
gathered his courage. "I'm already in love."  
"But you said--" his mother's eyes widened in   
realization and she covered her mouth with a trembling   
hand. "No!"  
"Ma'am, " Mitsuru began, holding out a hand as   
though fending off her tears.  
"Don't you 'Ma'am' me, you . . . you . . . "   
her shoulders quaked under the pressure of her sobs. "I  
don't want to hear it!"  
"How dare you?!" his father demanded. "Shinobu  
Tezuka, how dare you dishonor this family with something  
so . . . perverted?! How could you do that to your   
mother? How? . . . why? . . . I thought we solved this   
whole mess with Akira!"  
Everyone but Shinobu stopped and stared at him   
at this remark. Why would he be surprised? He'd heard   
it before. "Tezuka!" his mother said sharply. "You   
said you would never say that!"  
"What can I help it? Both of my sons are   
pansies, " his father sneered. Mitsuru's eyes widened  
to near impossible width.  
"Now wait a minute!" he demanded, glaring at   
Shinobu's father. "Where do you come off thinking you   
have the right to--"  
"Who are you to tell me how to raise my   
children? People who raise their children correctly   
don't raise fa--"  
"Stop it!" Shinobu's mother cried, interrupting  
the arguement.  
"She's right. We haven't even heard them   
explain themselves, " Nagisa offered. Shinobu threw   
her the grateful look he hadn't the first time, in the   
"dream." She gave him a half-smile in response.  
"Thank you, " he murmured. "I want to say that  
I DO love him. Mitsuru is . . . everything to me. More  
than everything. I care for him so deeply that I don't  
know what I'd do if I lost him, " he turned to Mitsuru,  
clasping their hands tightly and looked down. "I love   
you . . . so much . . . 'Tsuru . . . " he trailed off.  
Mitsuru clutched his hand warmly, even as   
Shinobu felt his heart breaking. His parents'   
expressions hadn't changed at all, and he knew it would   
be coming soon. True to the "dream," it had to.  
Sure enough, Shinobu's father sat up in his bed,  
his voice as turmultuous and yet cool and calm as the   
lull before a storm, and said, "I won't allow this to go  
on. I had hoped I would never have to give you this   
same ultimatum that I had to give your brother, but I   
see that you, like he, have no regard for your family's  
honor, nor the respect that we have earned through   
generations of hard work! Hear this: you have a   
choice--stay here and forget him, or take this boy and   
never set foot in our home again."  
-------------------------------------------------------- 


	4. part 4

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Cold moonlight poured over him as he lay in bed  
thinking. He wondered what he could have done   
differently, and why he was being forced to relive the   
singularly most painful thing that had ever happened to  
him. "It's not fair, " he twisted his sheets around   
him as he tossed and turned. "It's not FAIR!" he   
pounded the floor dully.  
"They didn't even put any consideration into   
what I wanted! They didn't care how I felt, even after   
I emptied my heart before them!" he shook violently in  
his grief. Crystalline shards of his soul slipped   
through his eyes. He could feel himself beginning to   
not care.  
"I won't be what they want me to, " he reasoned  
softly, moving to stand by his window. "I have to   
change something."  
He lay back down as a faint glimmer appeared on  
the horizon, coloring the thin panes of paper that were  
his walls a sunset-like, shimmery violet-red--a color   
that he had all intentions of seeing again, but in a   
different place. To hell with family. To hell with   
honor.  
His sleep was tormented by two sets of   
memories--one years old and the other newly trodden. He  
mentally replayed Mitsuru's tormented but accepting look  
over and over again, a self-abuse he was used to by now.  
The scene in which he told Mitsuru the problem remained   
fresh in his mind, and he knew it always would.  
He and Mitsuru walked slowly to his room, so  
they could talk. His lover sat down quietly on his   
floor, looking up at him with wide, understanding eyes.  
"Mitsuru, I can't--" Shinobu broke off, pain lancing   
through him with every word.  
"Shh, " Mitsuru pulled him into his arms. "I-I  
know. You can't defy your father."  
"But--" Shinobu cried into Mitsuru's shirt.  
"But you want to. Shin, I know that, too.   
I . . . for what it's worth, I wish we had followed your  
dream--premonition--and stayed at the dorms, but they   
had to know!"  
"But . . . "  
"But they don't approve. So I'll leave. I have  
to, " Mitsuru said softly, the quiet pain in his voice  
defying the cool, collected way he was reacting.  
"But--!" Shinobu frantically tried after   
Mitsuru again, an attempt to make him understand what he  
himself did not.   
"No buts, " Mitsuru replied shakily. "If I   
stay around long enough to listen to them, it will only  
hurt more."  
"Mitsuru!" Shinobu wailed desperately, reaching  
for his lover with quaking hands.  
"I love you, Shin, " tears began to overflow   
from Mitsuru's emotion-laden eyes as he left the room,   
suitcase in hand. "I always will."  
Shinobu almost collapsed under the weight of his  
pain as his lover's shadow faded away from the paper   
walls, and his chest shook with violent sobs.  
With a cry, Shinobu jerked up from his bed,   
surprised to find himself wrapped in blankets. He tore   
them away, cursing himself for falling asleep. How   
could he sleep? He shouldn't have the right. He stood   
up and walked to his door, kneeling down and opening it  
partly. His melancholy was almost tangible as he sat,   
watching the bright moon rise into the sky and dominate  
it, cold and devoid of life.  
The next morning, he acted as though nothing   
were wrong. Nagisa, for once, seemed to walk on   
eggshells around him, daintily avoiding potentially   
painful topics of conversation. His mother's watchful   
eye was on him all morning, and he stayed by his   
father's deathbed as all devoted sons should. To all   
outward appearances, he was the perfect heir. To those  
who knew him, he was dead.  
It didn't take long for his mother to seek him   
out and apologize. Only a full day of his robotic   
movements and lifeless mechanical state were needed to   
draw full repentance from her. Her eyes were marked   
with near horror as he dully, automatically replied that  
it was fine, that he was fine.   
A few more days of terse conversation and tense  
silences were enough to break down the old man's pride.  
On his deathbed, pale and wan, he pleaded with his son  
to understand his choices. Shinobu's father even went   
as far as to revoke the ultimatum, to have his son back.  
Shinobu stood aloof of the family, keeping away from   
them and their guilt.  
The bitter cold on the day of his father's death  
played a melody on the angst building within the young   
man. He felt slightly guilty when his mother told him   
of his father's passing, more at his lack of caring than  
at his harsh words. He was guilty because of the way   
the sun seemed to peek from behind the clouds at him, at  
the way the ice of the day had temporarily thawed. His  
mother, now a widow, had spent the day mourning, and he   
had sat on his porch staring at the birds in his   
favorite tree.  
As the minutes ticked away sluggishly, he   
watched the birds preen, then move into their warm   
winter homes. He shrugged at the unusuality of a bird   
in the dead of winter, then blinked it away. Standing   
up, he shook the dirt off of his pants and went inside.  
He shook his silver hair from his eyes and went  
into the hall, where the phone sat on the table at the   
entrance. Hesitantly, he traced his fingers along the   
keypad, then snapped up the reciever. He dialed a   
number, quickly, before he could convince himself not   
to. When the other side of the line came to life, he   
paused.  
"Excuse me?" the tinny voice on the other side   
asked. "Are you there?"  
"Ah, I'm Shinobu Tezuka, " Shinobu spoke.  
"No, he's not here. He's gone to visit his   
family, " the voice stated.  
"No, I'M Shinobu. May I speak to Mitsuru Ikeda,  
please?" he corrected.  
"Oh, Shinobu! How nice of you to call. You   
know school starts tomorrow. When will your baggage   
arrive, or are you bringing it in with you?" the voice  
queried cheerfully.  
"I doubt I'll be able to make it tomorrow.   
There's a good deal of family business to wrap up here,   
and it may take a while, " he answered. "May I speak  
to Mitsuru?"  
"Oh, of course!" he could almost hear the voice  
smiling.   
Shinobu stood, shifting from foot to foot, until  
Mitsuru picked up the phone. "Hello?" Mitsuru   
reluctantly asked.  
"Mitsuru, " Shinobu breathed lightly, biting   
his lip. It was a lot harder than he had thought it   
would be, to change history.  
"Shin?" the voice at the end hitched slightly,  
holding back something.  
"Yeah. I, um, won't be in tomorrow. Father   
passed away today, " Shinobu brushed a persistant lock  
of hair from his face. It was annoying him, causing a   
bizzare prickling in his eyes.  
An awkward silence settled between them, and   
Shinobu took a deep breath. "I guess I should feel   
sorry, " Mitsuru replied slowly, his tone strange, "but  
I can't really lie. I'm still upset about the way he   
treated us."  
Shinobu sighed, "I don't blame you. I'm still  
upset, too, but that can't really fix any of our   
problems. I feel . . . I don't know. Guilty?" he   
guessed. "Guilty for not feeling remorse, I suppose."  
"I-I know what you mean. Guilt at not feeling   
guilty. That's what I felt when your parents first   
reacted. I can't regret knowing and loving you,   
Shinobu, " Mitsuru admitted.  
"I'm glad. I'll be back at school on Thursday,  
I believe. I'll see you then. I just called to make   
sure that you wouldn't think I had skipped most of the   
week because of you, " Shinobu rationalized, a sweet   
tenderness coming out of his voice.  
"I'll see you then, " Mitsuru's voice smiled   
over the line.  
"See you, " Shinobu replied as he hung up. He   
felt vaguely pleased with himself, and he went straight  
to his room to pack.  
-------------------------------------------------------- 


	5. part 5a

--------------------------------------------------------  
Shinobu felt so lighthearted after his subway   
let out. He was finally going back to Greenwood--to   
Mitsuru! His jade eyes were lit up with a beautiful   
joy, and it took all of his self-control to keep from   
smiling at everyone he passed.   
Earlier that day, he had called Mitsuru from his  
apartment. He had explained everything, including how   
he had turned down his inheritance and given it to   
Nagisa. In this version of events, Akira had showed up  
for the funeral, staying only long enough to have a   
brief talk with Shinobu, and introduce him to Haru.   
"I'll have to let you meet Mitsuru sometime, "   
the younger man had shaken his brother's lover's hand,   
a smile in his eyes.   
"So does anyone in the family like girls?" Haru  
had joked.  
"Nagisa, " Shinobu's smile reached his eyes,   
and he winked at his brother.  
Shinobu and Mitsuru had agreed to go out for   
dinner at seven, to spend some time together, and he   
could scarcely wait. He was lost in a reverie as he   
walked down the familiar street, remotely placing it as  
the one that the accident that started the whole thing  
occurred on. He smiled serenely, planning to wait the   
few more years to greet the driver and thank him   
profusely, whether or not it had been a premonition.  
A strong wind whipped around him, followed by a   
girl's scream, and he turned sharply, the final scene in  
his dream playing out to horrible reality. The truck's  
headlights blinded him, and his jaw dropped as the world  
faded out again.  
-------------------------------------------------------- 


	6. part 5b

--------------------------------------------------------  
The dull, rapid pounding of his heartbeat echoed  
in his ears as Shinobu woke up. "What is this,   
Groundhog's Day?" he muttered darkly to the lights   
filtering in from behind his closed lids. A steady   
beeping filled the air, and he paused in his musings.   
"That's an EKG, " he mused, craking a bruised eye to   
survey his surroundings.  
A simple glance down revealed that he wore   
nothing but a paper hospital shift, and the tenseness in  
his face screamed that he did not possess the miraculous  
healing abilities his lover did, as the scabs protested  
even the slightest of facial movements. His eyes were   
sore, and his muscles denied that he had the ability to  
move. He tilted his head and wiggled his toes, noting   
that they were sticking out of the blankets.  
A call button hung low by his head, and he   
thought about pressing it, but the door to his room   
opened and a blonde head peeked in. Shinobu had to   
force a smile away from his face, wincing in pain. The   
other grinned when he noticed that he was awake.  
"You're up, " his eyes crinkled at the corners.  
"Hasukawa-sensei?" Shinobu asked, confused.   
Why would the nurse visit him in the hospital? At first  
he thought it was Mitsuru, but the man was too old to be  
him. He estimated the other to be about twenty-five,   
the Sensei's age.  
"No! Have you got amnesia or something?" the   
blonde laughed. "It's me!"  
"Mit--" he cocked his head to the side, hissing  
in pain as he did so. "You're kidding, right?" He   
looked down in disbelief at his hands, which were almost  
no different than they had been minutes ago. At the end  
of his bed, his toes wriggled again, and he looked all   
the way down the long length to them, frowning. "Give   
me a mirror, please, Mitsuru, " he asked politely.  
The blonde seemed confused, but complied. As he  
held the mirror, Shinobu peered through the bruises and  
cuts on his face at the person underneath. It was the   
old him, the one from the dream. Or was the re-try the  
dream? He couldn't figure it out.  
"Wha-?" he stared stupidly at the mirror, then   
Mitsuru.  
"Are you alright?"  
"What happened?!" Shinobu demanded, giving the   
mirror back.  
"You and I had just gotten off the phone and you  
were headed back to the apartment, when there was an   
accident. You were hit by a truck!" Mitsuru told him.  
"Ah? The apartment?" Shinobu didn't understand  
what was going on.  
"Our apartment. You went on a business trip,   
you remember? And Akira came into town to visit you.   
You were coming home so we could go have dinner with him  
and Haru, I think, " Mitsuru grinned sloppily. "I can   
never remember his name."  
"Haru?" Shinobu felt everything click into   
place, along with a new set of memories. "We lived   
together since high school?" he asked incredulously.  
"Yeah! Remember? You're really prone to being  
near-roadkill, ne? Right after your father's death, you  
were hit by another truck!" Mitsuru chuckled. "Oh, I   
know it's not funny, and I don't know what I'll do if I  
ever lose you, but I can't help to laugh about this,   
because I'm pretty sure either you or the clothes you   
wear are magnetic, because you attract automobiles of   
the high-speed, dangerous, and moving kind."  
"Ha, ha, " Shinobu dryly stated, internally   
giddy at the floodgate of memories washing over him now.  
He remembered a plethora of miniscule moments--moments   
that, at the time they occurred, seemed to go on   
forever--such as long park walks, and swims at the   
shore, and moonlit dinners. He smiled to himself as he  
remembered these pleasant moments.  
"What's with you? These mood swings are really   
not like you, " Mitsuru's eyes were bright as he sat by  
Shinobu's foot.  
"I had a bad dream, " Shinobu answered.   
"Well, sometimes the drugs in the hospital do   
that, ne?" Mitsuru grinned. "Anyway, the doctors say   
that you'll be fine. You broke a few ribs, but they   
didn't do any major damage, and your wrist is sprained,   
and your ankle, too, but you'll be able to come home, as  
long as you stay in bed.  
"Promise?" Shinobu's eyes softened.  
Mitsuru leaned in close to him, his eyes   
twinkling merrily. "Of course."  
The door opened, and Akira came in, looking no   
different for the years, holding a small bouquette and   
followed by Haru. The older man winked at them, lay the  
flowers down, then ushered his own lover out the door.  
"So we'll see you two when you get home?" he asked over  
his shoulder.  
"Bye!" Mitsuru cheerily called, then pressed a   
soft kiss to Shinobu's forehead. After the door closed,  
he sat up, looking down into Shinobu's eyes. A warmth   
passed between them, and the blonde lay down next to his  
love, snuggling under his chin delicately.  
"Love you, " Shinobu cooed softly into the   
golden silk near his face. He'd seen life without this  
perfection, and was still amazed by how he'd survived.  
"Love you so much."  
"Love you too, " Mitsuru curled his arm around  
Shinobu.  
-------------------------------------------------------- 


End file.
